The Five Stages of Death
by LizzehBoo
Summary: People who die sometimes do not have times to go through the five stages of death, therefore their loves ones do it for them. Hannah Abbott figured that out the hard way.
1. Denial

**The Five Stages of Death**

(Summary: People who die sometimes do not have times to go through the five stages of death, therefore their loves ones do it for them. Hannah Abbott figured that out the hard way.)

(A/N: For an extra credit assignment at The Third Corridor Forums.)

_Denial_

Hannah Abbott had never denied anything in her life. When she believed in something, she believed it and she would let someone know it. This, however…

This was different.

This was very different.

"I'm sorry," the words were spoken with such tenderness, but such hollowness if they could ever be spoken with both.

She couldn't help but hear the words and think _what are they sorry for? What happened? What are they talking about?_ She knew. God, did she know, but for some reason, it never computed in her mind. She blinked it away for a moment and a strange, crooked, frighteningly pale smile fell upon her face.

"G-good joke," she said, a half giggle escaping her throat, just enough to make her pigtails bob. "Very funny. Now where is she?"

"Hannah, your mother is dead. The Death Eaters killed her." She could tell that the woman was trying to be caring, but was growing impatient. _Perhaps this shouldn't be her field of work if she grows impatient with children._

The words the woman said trickled through her ears but did not remain in her head. They were shoved out by a wall of thoughts that kept scary things away. She'd used them that one time her baby blanket had been incidentally shredded. Her mother had sewed it back together soon after that.

"Hannah," the woman gave a sigh that disguised her frustration and grabbed the young woman's hands, "You need to come with us. You need to come see your mother. She's dead, Hannah."

_Why does this woman use my name so much? I should have my own chocolate frog card._

Those thoughts crowded out her words again.

"Hannah, would you like to see a priest? Would you like to see Dumbledore? Hannah?"

_This woman annoys me. I wish she'd go away. This joke is not funny anymore._

"Hannah?"

_I wish she'd stop saying my name. I don't have to take this._

And with that thought in mind, she turned around and she walked away, without even bidding a farewell to the woman. It didn't matter anyway. She was just joking. It was just a joke. Her mother being dead? It was laughable. That's why it was a joke. She could just go back to Herbology and have no problem whatsoever. Then Christmas would come and she'd go home and she'd see her mother hanging stockings on the fireplace.

She never managed to make the steps back to Herbology however. She just waltzed right up the stairs and into the Hufflepuff common room. For about five minutes, she merely stood there and watched the empty fireplace. _They should hang stockings over these fireplaces too._ Then she dragged herself up the stairs and opened the door to her room and unlatched her trunk. Then she started pulling her clothes out the drawers and placing them in the trunk.

_I'll go on a little vacation with my mom. I've had a really rough time this year. After being so stressed out for so long, she just wants me home for a little while. Lots of people are going home. I can too._

She began packing the little bobbles and trinkets that she carried with her, including her prefect badge that she'd held on to over the past year and her _Support Cedric Diggory!_ badge that she'd bought two years before. She could remember when Cedric died. She'd seen that. There was no joke there. She'd seen him dead on the ground next to that battered and bruised Harry Potter. The Dark Lord himself had killed Cedric Diggory, but he'd had his reasons. Cedric was with Harry so Cedric deserved to die in the Dark Lord's eyes. Her mother didn't have a reason. No one would kill her.

So, obviously, no one had.

She would just go on vacation with her Mum, come back, finish her year, and become Head Girl of Hufflepuff House next year. A good, stress-relieving vacation would do her good, and she'd be back and ready for school by the time she returned. That frighteningly pale smile played on her features again as she finished her packing and closed her trunk. She pointed her wand at it, enchanted it to follow her, then headed back down the stairs, her trunk floating behind her quietly.

Herbology had been a rough class for her. It was a relief she could leave it. After last year, she'd had trouble facing the teacher. She'd nearly fainted! It was hard to face. She knew she should tell Ernie goodbye, but being called out of class would only raise suspicion. She didn't want people to ask about this silly little joke. They could be jealous of her vacation. She decided that she'd write him a letter once she got home. She left a chocolate frog in his favorite chair with a small note with _To Ernie_ on it, just to suffice for the time being. She climbed out of the portrait hole and continued down the corridor.

_It's too bad Ernie can't go with us. He's very fun to be around._

That woman showed up again. She'd been waiting for her.

"Good, you have your things. Hannah, would you like to speak to Dumbledore before we go?"

Hannah stared at her as if she'd grown horns. Why did this lady have to keep showing up?

"This isn't funny anymore," she said.

"Hannah, this is not a joke. The Death Eaters killed your mother."

Then it flashed in her mind. _I was in Dumbledore's Army._

But that wouldn't be enough of a reason would it? After all, her mother didn't know. They wouldn't go after her mother.

"Hannah, I know it's hard to believe, but your mother is dead," the lady said, eyes sad with a false understanding.

A small silence pursued as Hannah stared at the woman. The words finally trickled in and settled. All other thoughts shied away from it immediately, leaving it the only words in her mind. _Your mother is dead._


	2. Anger

_Anger_

"You have no right to tell me what happened to my Mum!" she screamed suddenly. "Where's my father? Where's my mother? Where is she?"

The woman jumped back, hand on chest. She paled profusely and stammered over her sentences.

"H-Hannah, your father is at the Ministry. Y-y-your mother's body is a-at St. Mungo's."

Hannah ran from the woman, the magic dissolving and dropping her trunk to the floor with a resounding thud. She ran to the nearest item, a suit of armor, and knocked it to the ground. The noise crashed and echoed among the halls and she screamed at it as if it were Lucius Malfoy or Voldemort himself.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" she yelped, kicking the metal limbs across the floor.

Hannah didn't curse often, not that _damn_ was much of a curse at all, but she still hardly said it. She felt a burning fury inside of her that couldn't stop. She could have _done_ something! Why wasn't anyone protecting her? What had the Death Eaters wanted from her? Her mother had done nothing! NOTHING! She took to running outside. Keeping still was out of the question. She had almost run into the Forbidden Forest, but refrained and took off across the lake. She wanted to scream and yell and hurt and fight and scratch and bite. There was nothing to stop it. Nothing. She ripped at grass and trees and tried to relieve her rage, but nothing would work. Someone had killed her mother!

She wanted whoever the person was… whichever Death Eater… dead. She didn't give a damn about anything else. That person deserved to die. He killed her mother. He KILLED her. He deserved to go to Hell. The woman came running along after her, as expected. She grasped Hannah by the arms and she thrashed about.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" she screamed. "I HATE HIM! I HATE THAT STUPID DEATH EATER! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

"Hannah… HANNAH!" The woman tried to calm her but Hannah kicked her in the shin and took off running again.

She wasn't really sure where she was going. She just wanted to do something. Something to expend that energy. Someone had killed her mother… She raced back into Hogwarts and tripped over the suit of armor she had destroyed.

"B-bloody bastard," she hissed. "I… hate him…"

And why wasn't her father there? He should have come to break the news, not some… pathetic little woman! And her mother! Couldn't she protect herself? There was no way she would just hand herself off to the Dark Lord. She was stronger than that! She felt a small pain trickled through her arms and knees where she'd hit the ground. It only made her more angry. She had to go and knock that armor over didn't she! She was a screw up! That's why her mother died! She joined that stupid Dumbledore's Army and that set her family aside as something to be reckoned with. And they reckoned with her family!

That meant that Harry Potter was partly to blame. She'd always liked him as an acquaintance, but a deep hatred bubbled in her stomach and bloomed throughout her form for the boy now. If he hadn't started the DA, she wouldn't have joined and her family wouldn't have been in trouble. That's why her mother was dead! Bloody Harry Potter and his bloody need to get back at anyone who bloody opposed him! She pulled herself back up and began to run again. That woman would follow her again and if she saw HER, she'd probably hurt her.

She raced around a corner and down another hall.

Voldemort… he was such a coward! He had people do his dirty work for him. He could never do anything for himself. Anyone who opposed him he'd have killed so he wouldn't have to bother with them. He was scared of them. He was scared of everyone. Therefore they had to be disposed of. He should have died. Harry should have killed him! But Harry couldn't so now she had to suffer! She wanted to kick something, but her foot hurt from the last time. She was so stupid! Everyone was stupid!

"Hannah, wait! Hannah?"

That woman was the worst of all.

"GO AWAY!" she hissed at her. "Just go away!"

"Hannah, if you want to see your mother, we need to go now."

"She's dead!" she yelled, "And you think I want to see her? You think I want to see anyone? What could have possessed you, lady, to make you think that seeing my mother's corpse would give me some sort of comfort?! What did she do? Did she taunt some Death Eater? Or did she just hand herself over? Why don't you do some explaining instead of constantly saying my name as if it were your favorite word!" She was breathless after her speech.

The woman stood still, letting the words sink in and she sighed. "I know this is hard, but you must come with me."

Hannah shoved past her. "Fine."

Her feet felt heavy, so she stomped out of the building. The woman had one of those flying cars ready. She hated it. Why would anyone have such a beat up old car? It wasn't like they would be going into Muggle territory. Of course, she would have hated Apparating too. She sat heavily down in the back seat and slammed the door shut, glaring into the miniscule reflection in the car window. She caught site of her blonde pigtails. They were fluffy and cute, a hairstyle that would make people smile, perhaps go _Aw, she hasn't grown up just yet. Keep that youth, little one!_ Her mother put them up in pigtails the first day of school. She liked them. They'd become her signature. They made other people happy. It proved that SHE was happy. That she was young.

She ripped them down.


	3. Bargaining

_Bargaining_

The car ride had grown deftly silent. Hannah stared out the window at the passing scenery-which wasn't much. They WERE, after all, in the sky. Her head was hurting as were her elbows and knees. Not that it mattered. She looked out at the clouds, feeling a burning sensation behind her eyes. Her anger had finally cooled with her last effort of pulling her hair down. She held the rubber bands that held it up in her right hand. One had popped and hung lifelessly, while one was still a stretched elastic ring. She closed them in her palm then shoved them in the pocket of her cloak. Her trunk rattled ever so slightly in the trunk of the car.

_This has to be a dream… Please, God, let this be a dream. I'll put my hair back up and I'll go see Mum. God, if you give me this nightmare, I'll… I'll… I don't know…_

She stared out the window for another moment, the sky rolling by in happy, puffy clouds that were so ironic in their own way. She closed her eyes and leaned against the window, feeling the cool touch of the glass.

_Please, God. Show me that you love me… that you have one ounce of caring for me. Show me that I haven't done anything wrong. Or at least tell me what I have done to deserve this…_

She knew nothing would come. No one would say anything. But for some reason it just seemed like something she had to do. She had to hope that it was all a nightmare, or some cruel joke. She had to pray for a change… anything really. It was something to take her mind off the pain and it kept the anger low in her stomach where it bubbled dangerously.

_If this is a dream, I promise that I will pay more attention in History of Magic. And I'll pass all my NEWTS. Without freaking out even! Please, God… give me a chance to make whatever I've done wrong right! Don't punish me now…_

Yet it still remained the same. Nothing was going to change. Her mother was dead. There was no stopping it now. Hannah wanted to bang her head against the window. Perhaps a bruise would add to her punishment and make everything just a little less real. In fact, everything was SO real, it was almost surreal. She hated it.

_You could have at least warned me…_ _You warned Harry… You give him dreams of bad things… I just get to be shocked… That doesn't seem very fair… What did Harry do to earn your blessings? What can I do? Of course he lost his parents already. So… if my dad dies, will I finally have a chance of not hurting? You won't kill off anyone else will you? Oh, please don't kill my dad!_

She almost wanted the woman to speak. Almost. A comforting word wasn't exactly comforting from a stranger. Besides, she would call her Hannah again and the name felt foreign now. Her mother had named her Hannah and thought it was so very pretty. Now… well, she felt she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve any name really. With her mum gone, who was going to call her that? Her father had his fair share of nicknames for her, but his voice was never as sweet as her mother's.

_Tell me this isn't my fault…_

The thought caught her off guard. She'd been throwing blames left and right, but the realization that it could have been her hit hard and cold, like a stone. Then it plummeted and made her feel heavy. It bore down on her like gravity… well, about ten times as much really.

_Please… tell me this isn't my fault…_

Hannah Abbott wrung her hands in her lap, fiddling and fumbling with them. She could remember the manicure she'd argued with her mum over. She could remember arguing with her over makeup, boys, anything else that was dramatic in her life. She could remember the fights they got into. They were few and far between, but violent spats with much screaming. She remembered how high pitched her voice got when she screamed and how her mother flailed when she was frustrated. She could remember screaming _I HATE YOU!_ and rushing to her room to cry over something so very stupid. And she wasn't crying now. Because crying over something stupid was one thing. Crying over something serious was scary.

_I don't think apologizing will help…but… I never meant those mean words. Please… please at least tell me I'm forgiven._

But again, there was no answer.

_Say something… anything… I'll do anything… Say something… PLEASE!_

Nothing. It was always nothing. And people wondered why some didn't believe in a higher power. Psh. This higher power never spoke. It never offered comfort. So why believe?

_Because it's a bargaining chip…_ Hannah leaned her head on her hand, pushing her cheek up ever so slightly. What a bitter thought.

_I'll stop being bitter if you'll bring her back._ She was just trying to distract herself by now, anything to take her mind off the pain. Human nature.

Bitter thoughts hiding pain accompanied by silence. Her life sure had changed in a matter of moments. She closed her eyes and bit her lip so hard she thought she'd make it bleed. But she didn't bleed. Bleeding was too easy. God was far from merciful. If He was real. He probably wasn't. Still, even if she wasn't bleeding, she could feel herself draining away, leaving a cold, dead body. Yes, a chilled, dead thing that wasn't near as pretty as it was before. Laying flat on the floor, looking as if it were sleeping, at least if sleeping was as creepy. A being that was no more that was fighting and flailing just above her own body, thrashing at the air and just trying to get back in. A form that was gone. Gone for good and never EVER coming back. A cold, dead, body.

Just like her mother's.


	4. Sorrow

_Sorrow_

Perhaps that was when the numbness subsided and the pain set in.

"Oh, God," she heard her mind whisper, homing in on the horrifying fact that her mother had died. "Ohgodohgodohgodshe'sdeaddeaddeadDEAD."

The car slowed to a stop and the door opened. Hannah hid behind her hair, her eyes burning and threatening to spill over. She bit her lip hard, feeling a stinging swelling into her lower jaw, a large, hard lump in her throat. She tasted coppery blood. She'd bitten through her lip.

"She's in here," the woman said tenderly, opening a door. When had they gotten inside?

And, almost dumb with shock and sadness, she stepped in.

Her mother was laying out on what appeared more like a table than a bed, an uncomfortable looking table. She had a sheet covered over her and many chemicals brewed in cauldrons around her. It looked like a mad scientist's laboratory from a book she'd read once. She reminded herself to burn that book.

The door shut behind her with a loud metal clang that resounded off the walls then died into silence. Most in that moment would say they were alone with their mother, but her mother was no longer there. She was just alone.

She padded across the floor and grasped the sheet. She knew in her heart that it had to be done. She had to see for herself. She had to make sure.

And so she lifted it from her mother's body, just enough to see her face.

She dropped the sheet as her hands flew to her mouth. That was her mother. That was _her_ mother! Before she knew it, a large lump had formed in her throat and was cutting off her oxygen. A choking sob escaped her, a sort of switch that brought on the collapse to the floor and the loud, raucous crying. She could feel every sob racking her body to a point where it hurt. She could feel the salty tears and snot making her face sticky. She could feel the heat within her face that was building up. She collapsed to the floor and broke into sobs. There was nothing that could make this pain go away. Nothing.

She sat in that room for seconds… minutes… hours… she wasn't counting. In fact, she wasn't really sure that it mattered. She didn't care how long she was there. So much time had been wasted. She'd spent so much time with friends - young people, people that wouldn't grow old and die soon. Her mother… she was aging. Her mother would die before them. And she ran off with them and left her mother alone. It destroyed her inside, a large gaping hole replacing whatever she had left in her heart. She cried and cried and cried and cried. She wasn't sure how many tears she had, but she knew that if she let them drip, she could have flooded the room.

She leaned back against the wall, feeling her face grow cold with the air upon the tears and she let out a long breath. The pain was overwhelming. No physical pain could compare. Suddenly, Hannah understood those that wanted to commit suicide, and yet she still hated them because it was selfish to leave someone to miss them when it wasn't their time. She couldn't seem to get angry though. It was getting harder and harder to feel anything. She was crying it all away. Every tiny little tear held such massive significance to everything she was. She was draining herself of everything.

She looked back to her mother's face. People always said that the dead looked like they were sleeping. Every funeral, that's what she heard. _She looks like she's sleeping._ That wasn't true. That wasn't even close. They didn't look asleep. They looked dead. They always looked dead. They were pale and frozen and silent. There was no warmth - no soul. No, they were most definitely dead. And her mother looked dead too. Just like the rest. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, the only support she had. It left her questioning why no one else had come. Was she the only one crying over all this? Where was her father? What was going on in the world outside her sadness and why couldn't she get up and go look? Why couldn't she move? Had she really been weighed down so much by her depression that she couldn't move?

She broke down again for another few minutes, letting out the stragglers of her emotions. By the time those tears stopped her lip was quivering. She reached up and tenderly touched her scalp where she'd ripped her pigtails loose. It was a bit painful, but healing. She wiped away the tears and stared at her mother's form once again. The tears were stopping, drying up. Maybe she'd just run out of tears to cry. And for the first time in awhile, she wanted to see Ernie. She knew he would be a comfort to her that no one else could be, and she missed him deeply. But she knew that this agonizing pain was needed to make it through this. She knew it. Still, it didn't make it any easier. She folded her arms across her chest and made her way to the door, feeling chilly suddenly as the rest of her sorrow dripped away. She opened the door and stood there for a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed again. She was afraid the tears would come back, but they didn't. She continued to stand there and stare out at the empty hallway that led her away from her mother's body.


	5. Acceptance

_Acceptance_

Hannah took a step forward, into the hall, and continued walking. She didn't look back because she knew that her mother wasn't back there. Her mother had died. Her body remained, but not her soul, so there was nothing to look back at. She couldn't help but have a reverie.

_"Hannah," her mother's voice came softly into the room. "Hannah?"_

_Hannah coughed and leaned back against her pillow, giving a bit of an attitude with an eye roll. "What, mom?"_

_"I just wanted to check on you," she said, coming into the room, her hair pulled tightly back against her skull and yet it looked nice, hardly menacing._

_Hannah gave in. "I just don't feel well."_

_"Well, it'll be alright. Mommy's here."_

_"Please, mom. You wouldn't miss taking care of me for the world."_

_"It's my job, sweetheart. I'll always be there to take care of you, even if I'm not there physically."_

_"Mother, you act like your dying." Hannah laughed._

_Her mother patted her arm. "We're all dying, Hannah."_

_"That's negative."_

_"No, no! Dying is a rest. In a world as corrupt as this, don't you think that death would be more of an escape than a punishment?"_

_"I… I guess so. I'm not really wise in stuff like that, mom."_

_"It's merely an opinion, love," she said, smiling._

Hannah hadn't smiled then. She had just stared at her mom blankly, not really understanding why her mom shared her views on the subject. Now, she did smile. She understood. Her mother knew exactly how death would be, perhaps not when or how it would come, but she was ready for it either way. She'd made a good life for herself. She had a good husband and the lovely little daughter she'd always wanted. She had a nice home that was paid for, and a family that could take care of themselves in case she disappeared. There was something strange and lovely about it all, like she had always known that her end would come early.

Hannah turned a corner and found herself back in lobby of the hospital. People were so serious. They were rushing around, talking in low voices, healing people, putting people in rooms. It was all a very quick and very stressful environment. Hannah tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, staring about. Everyone was in such a hurry. Was everyone in a hurry to live or die? It left her confused and yet wise. People didn't realize how very little time they had. They were always fighting death with every fiber of their being, but was there really a fight to put up? Death seemed so welcoming in a way. If you weren't truly living, why bother not dying? She silently made a pact to herself then.

_I'm going to truly live. I'm not going to die in vain. I'm going to do the things I love and be with the people I love. I will meet up with Ernie and spend time with him. I'll rejoin Dumbledore's Army and avenge my mother's death. I will live happily and brightly with the people that I love. My mother would want that. That way, when I die, I will feel complete. There won't be anything left for me to do. No regrets. Maybe… just maybe… someone will cry over me. I don't want to upset them, but I want to love them and… tears are shed in love as much as sorrow._

She stepped outside into the air and the sun hit her face. She was surprised as to how bright it had gotten when she was inside. How long had she been in there? No, it didn't matter. She closed her eyes and opened her ears and listened. There was a bird chirping not far off. A sprinkler was running on the grass. People were walking and chatting happily, seriously, sadly, awkwardly, lovingly - all that. Life was moving on without her mother. In fact, everyone still kept going, no matter what. It didn't matter who died. They adapted. She adapted. She was human. Adaptation was needed.

Another smile crept across her lips and she let out a small chuckled. "Are you angry, mother? Somehow I doubt you are."

She moved onto the sidewalk and began walking - nowhere in particular. She just thought it was a bit relaxing to just walk. To listen to the world around her. She'd ignored it for so long. She'd ignored a lot of things that she should have taken care to notice. She added _I will notice everything in detail_ to her pact. The further she walked from St. Mungo's, the more okay she felt with the world. Earlier, she never would have expected it. Most people who's mother's had died wouldn't have been in the mood she was in, but somehow, she had a feeling that her mother hadn't left at all.

She felt the breath of a whisper on her neck and she turned. Nothing. "That you, mother?"

Of course, there was no answer, not one that she could hear. But she knew. She knew her mother was right there, watching her like she always had. Taking care of her like she always had. Hannah knew that she'd be alright. Her mother was there to help her after all. She always was. She just never realized. She could really begin living the way she should have. Call it a lesson or what not. Something just clicked in her and it no longer hurt. Her mother was _really there_. She was. She could feel it in her bones and in her soul. She dug in her pockets for a moment and pulled out two elastic bands, holding them in the palm of her hand. They were two different colors, yellow and black. Not that she really cared. She always kept them on her person. She looked up to the sky, feeling the sun warm her face like her mother's hand.

She put her pigtails back up.


End file.
